“He is sorry that I am his wife--he is angry with his dead mother because she made him marry me. Oh, how can I bear this terrible humiliation!” she moaned, pressing her white hands against her throbbing temples, while her heart felt as if it would break with its burden of despair. Presently Kitty--her own, faithful Kitty, who had been her maid ever since she, Nina, had been a little girl--came and knocked at her door. “You may go away, Kitty, I do not want you now,” Nina said, in as natural a tone as she could assume. “Open the door, Miss Nina, please, I have such joyful news for you,” cried Kitty, on the other side. “What is it?” Nina asked, faintly, although she knew only too well. “Miss Strangemore wants you to come down at once. Your husband is come at last,” the maid bawled through the key-hole, sorely disappointed that she had missed seeing the joylight flash into the fair face of the young mistress she loved so well. She waited a moment, and she was surprised when Nina replied, indifferently: “I--I--my head aches, Kitty. Tell them I cannot come down until dinner.” “Well, I never! I thought she’d be wild with joy, and she’s as cool as a cucumber!” muttered disconcerted Kitty, as she retired with the message. Miss Strangemore was too much astonished for words. When she had heard from one of the servants that Nina had come in, she had sent at once to her room, expecting in all good faith that the girl would come flying down the stairs to fling herself into the arms of her husband. The cool, almost curt reply amazed her, but Talbot Strangemore only laughed. The respite was indeed a relief. “My wife apparently is no more anxious to meet me than I was to see her,” he said, lightly. “She gives me a chance to meet her under the least embarrassing circumstances; I commend her tact. Can you send a servant to the wharf, Aunt Drusilla, for my trunk, as I shall have to dress for dinner?” “Your trunk? Then you have come to stay?” his aunt exclaimed, quickly. “Of course. What else?” he exclaimed, in surprise, and arching his dark brows a little frowningly; but she did not explain. She could not tell him what she had been thinking about him in the privacy of her own room. She had his trunks brought, and he went to the rooms that were always in readiness for him by Nina’s express orders, and where the furnishings and arrangements were perfect, while a vase of fresh flowers always stood upon the mantel, breathing forth a fragrant welcome to the possible return of the master. He noted their sweetness and beauty, and when he had carefully made his toilet for the late dinner, he selected a rosebud and some delicious heliotrope for a _boutonniere_, but it did not once occur to him that Nina’s delicate fingers had culled these sweets from the wealth of the conservatory, and placed them there in anticipation of his coming, although his thoughts were busy with her as he fastened them upon his coat.